Feng Yao lifted Lang Huan's chin and studied her face closely. "I don't know how the gods sculpted you so perfectly," she murmured. "You're neither masculine nor feminine—both handsome and beautiful."
A soft laugh escaped her lips. "Strange… when your hair falls to your waist like this, you look breathtakingly beautiful. I wonder…" She paused, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What would you look like in women's clothing?"
Lang Huan's eyes widened in shock. What does she mean by that?
Feng Yao's finger traced a slow path down from Lang Huan's chin, along her jawline, then to her neck. It stopped at the collar of her middle garment, where she gently hooked her finger, leaning in just a little closer.
"Do you want to try it?" she whispered.
Lang Huan didn't move. Her entire body froze. Does she know? Has she figured it out? Who I really am? Panic twisted in her chest. She wanted to ask, to say something—anything—but no words came.
Feng Yao picked up the wine jar beside her and drank it. She glanced at Lang Huan, who was still lost in thought, and frowned.
"Who were you thinking about just now?" she asked, her voice cold. "Your beautiful sister? Su Qing? Lin Ruochen? Qing Meier?" Her breath hitched slightly, anger simmering beneath her words.
Her eyes narrowed. "You actually have the nerve to flirt with other women in front of me." Her voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper. "Do you want to die?"
She seized Lang Huan's wrist, pulling her closer until their faces were mere inches apart.
"You belong to me, Lang Huan. I don't like it when others touch what's mine. Not even a little."
Lang Huan met her gaze, her voice quiet but steady. "Your Highness… do you truly like me? Or am I just your pet? A toy to amuse you?"
For a moment, Feng Yao said nothing. Her eyes shimmered with something unspoken. Then, slowly her arms slipping around Lang Huan's neck, her breath warm and laced with the scent of wine.
"If I didn't like you," she whispered, "do you think I would let you touch me? Kiss me?"
The Eldest Princess had never felt anything like this for anyone before. She had always been cold, distant—she hated it when people got too close. But Lang Huan was different. Sometimes, she hated these feelings, hated the way they made her lose control. And yet… she couldn't let go.
A small smile bloomed on Lang Huan's lips. In that moment, all she wanted was to kiss Feng Yao. She tilted her head, closing the distance between them.
But just before their lips could meet, Feng Yao stopped her.
Her hand rose gently to Lang Huan's cheek, stopping her with a tender but firm touch. Her eyes searched Lang Huan's face, as if trying to read something hidden beneath the surface.
She still hadn't gotten the answer she was looking for.
"You still haven't answered my question," she whispered. "Who were you thinking about?"
Lang Huan didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Her heart was tangled in too many knots.
There was anxiety—because she still didn't know if Feng Yao had discovered her secret, was simply playing with words, or was beginning to suspect the truth.
And she had to face Feng Yao's possessiveness… and her jealousy.
But there was one thing Lang Huan was sure of—her feelings for this woman. It wasn't just admiration. It was love.
Lang Huan reached up, her fingers brushed Feng Yao's cheek with quiet tenderness.
"Your Highness," she whispered, "I like you. I admire you… I think about you all the time."
"My heart is small—and it's already full of you. There's no space for anyone else."
Her words were soft and sincere, like the first cool rain after a long, hot summer. Even Feng Yao, proud and noble as she was, couldn't help but be moved by them.
Lang Huan's hand slipped under the light fabric of Feng Yao's gauze, her fingers brushing lightly against the skin of her back.
Feng Yao shivered at the touch. Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes. Slowly, she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to Lang Huan's.
Her hands held Lang Huan's face as she gave in to the moment completely.
Lang Huan softly bit her lower lip, and she responded right away—her lips parting in silent invitation. Their tongues met slowly, tasting and teasing. Then, their kiss deepened, becoming more passionate. A growing warmth spread between them, each touch sending sparks racing through Feng Yao's body.
Not wanting to let go, Lang Huan drew Feng Yao's tongue into her mouth, savoring the faint taste of wine that lingered on her lips.
A soft moan escaped Feng Yao's lips as her hand moved along Lang Huan's back. Their bodies pressed close—so close it felt like they might melt into each other.
The friction of Feng Yao's chest against Lang Huan's body made her burn with desire. She struggled to keep her emotions in control.
Their lips finally parted, their breaths mingling in the silence that followed—heavy and warm.
Lang Huan let out a soft sigh and gazed at Feng Yao's flushed face.
"…Let's talk about something serious," she said gently.
Feng Yao chuckled, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of Lang Huan's neck.
"We've been serious this whole time. Which part wasn't?" she teased with a smile.
Lang Huan gave her a look—half amused, half exasperated.
With practiced ease, she lifted Feng Yao off her lap and settled her down beside her.
"Come on, sit properly."
Feng Yao grumbled under her breath but didn't resist, adjusting her gauze as she sat down beside Lang Huan, still smiling.
"Please, be serious. I want to ask you something." Lang Huan's voice was calm, but insistent.
Feng Yao tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Ask, just ask. Why are you so fierce with me?"
Without waiting for an answer, she snuggled closer to Lang Huan's arm, wrapping her own around Lang Huan's waist.
"I'm always serious," Feng Yao continued, her voice teasing. "It's you who can't seem to stay serious…"
"Look at me." Lang Huan gently pushed her back, her tone soft but firm. "Do you know my real identity?"
Feng Yao blinked, "Which real identity do you mean?" she asked with a playful wink, her eyes glittering with mischief.
Lang Huan inhaled deeply, her expression shifting as if she were struggling to maintain her patience. Her lips pressed into a thin line, a small frown appearing as she tried to keep her composure.
Feng Yao saw the hint of desperation in Lang Huan's eyes, chuckled softly, and whispered, "Ah… do you mean your identity as a blue-eyed little demon?" She paused for a moment, giving Lang Huan a sly smile. "Or…" she added, her voice dropping to a teasing murmur, "your identity as a woman?"
Lang Huan gasped. Her eyes widened in shock as she pointed a finger at Feng Yao, both indignant and flustered. "You… you—!"
Before she could finish, Feng Yao swatted her hand away with a playful grin.
"Don't point at me," she scolded with mock indignation. "It's impolite!"